written Friday 27 December 2002
This was fun.
Somewhere between Orlando, New York, Amsterdam, New York, and Orlando again, my body found this virus and decided to farm it for a few days. You don't want to know the details.
But here are highlights. A call Friday to my doctor:
"My temperature is going up one degree F per hour."
"Do you have headaches?"
"As a matter of fact, yes."
"We know what this is. Can you get to the emergency room?"
I pass out between treatment rooms and wake up with five medical types rolling me down the hall. I'm wired for sound--they checked me for a heart attack, not likely, but I wasn't awake to say so. Four hours with saline dripping into my arm, a car full of sports drink to the house, and two days of nonstop sleep.
Two days later I knew I was in trouble when I couldn't follow the plot of a Friends episode. Back to the emergency room. Finally they give me something. Turns out the virus was only a pathway to strep. Two days on antibiotics and I can work, but I'm not really myself for another week. Then on a plane to Dallas for Christmas with the family. A book on Amsterdam's sights from my sister, an optimist.
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